


Curiosity killed the cat (but satisfaction brought it back)

by Angelicasdean



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Crack, Potions Accident, Tiny arthur, himbo arthur and sean, inspired by mods, lets ignore canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelicasdean/pseuds/Angelicasdean
Summary: You know what they say about being nosy... always ends someone in trouble.Arthur should've never taken by Sean's words.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Van der Linde Gang
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation, except that modders inspired this (specifically the Lenny's trainer mod where you can size up and size down Arthur)

Arthur knew he was a goddamn fool. He had proved it to himself time and time again throughout his tiresome life. 

Nothing could have prepared him for this though. 

He should have expected, by the glint in the Irishman's eyes that he was a downright _liar_. Some things just aren't to be trifled with, especially in the world they live in, with the outburst of petty witches leaving cauldrons full of unnamed potions to mess with them who aren't gifted. Arthur hasn't been one of the lucky ones who were born with magic, hadn't even been born with enough of a brain to be a potions master. Sean though, Sean's been their little mischief master with all his subtle hexes and harmless (but annoying) spell casting. 

The long streak of pranks and general turbulence he generates should've made him vigil. 

But no, he still took the bait. Of course he did, he's the gang's biggest block head. 

Maybe not too late for regrets, Arthur is only thankful his voice doesn't squeak as he escapes the river that is his clothing. Sean is laughing up a storm above him, wheezing and doubling over and everything. Arthur holds onto the collar of his shirt, hiding himself behind it and cursing every swear the world has seen.

The bastard shrunk him, he's no bigger than a baby squirrel. The people have gather around him, and Arthur is sure he's entirely pink as he stares up at their giant bodies. Without warning, he finds himself swooped up into the sky, landing in a palm that carries both him, and his very oversized shirt. "Sean you goddamn idiot," Dutch sighs, coming into Arthur's wide vision. Arthur looks at him, Dutch's scrutinizing gaze angry but not at him. The world swirls as the hand he's perched on moves, and Arthur turns to face none other than Hosea.

"What in the hell, Arthur," Hosea says, Sean scrambling to explain to Dutch his situation. 

"It ain't my mistake!" Arthur argues, hitching up the shirt when it started to slide off of him. Hosea frowns, looking up at Sean with bemusement.

"It'll wear off! I swear! I didn't mean nothin', just a joke!" Sean promises, and Arthur fills with relief at the notion of returning to his normal size, "jus....just I don't know when," Sean admits sheepishly after a moment, and Arthur frowns at him. 

"I swear to god, Macguire if-"

"I know the antidote, though!" Sean interrupts, "just give me a bit, I'll cook it up for ya" and with that, Sean escapes the crowd. All that's left is Arthur, sitting in Hosea's palm, drowning in his shirt as he stares at where the Irishman once was.

"I'm going to kill him," Arthur swears, and Hosea hums above him as the world spins again, and Hosea carries him away from the scene. 


	2. Chapter 2

It took a bit of time, an awkward sizing and a lot of giggling; but Arthur was finally clothed in his miniature state. The shirt was held by one single large button that almost bumped his chin, but it didn't bother him aside from that. At least he didn't need to hop around with his regular shirt dragging behind him. It was surreal, looking at everything and realizing how different his perspective is. 

For instance, he almost got crushed by a plate, which was terrifying. His saving grace was Hosea, who had taken to hovering over him so the others wouldn't literally step on him. Most of the camp thought his situation was the greatest joke in the world. Especially with how he looks, almost... babyfied. It was unnerving; he wanted to hide away until he was normal sized again, but lord know when Sean will show up again. After the initial shock had faded, Dutch had thought it funny too, taking far too much amusement in unceremoniously picking him up and bouncing him around like a little doll. 

It sucked.

But Arthur _did_ find a bit of revenge in the fact that he can climb whoever is nearest without them noticing, he'd already climbed John and surprised him by hanging off of his hair. John squeaked and squawked about it, turn every which way trying to rid of him but Arthur just continued climbing him and rested on his head. John wanted to flick him off, but Arthur only held onto his hair tighter. It seemed that though his body was much smaller, his strength had not wavered, and John almost ripped off his own hair trying to get Arthur away from him. 

In the end, Arthur watched from his perch atop of John's hair as the day passed by. 

His bed was far too big for him, pillow far too wide when he tried to sleep. So Hosea, being the kind soul he is, crafted Arthur a tiny bed made of cotton and rested it where Arthur could hop on. It was cozy, and nice.

The next day, Arthur wasn't as angry at his predicament as he had been. In fact, he'd found it almost fun. Jack had insisted they play together, and Arthur encountered a very large, intimidating roach but it turned out to be rather friendly. It looked disgusting, in Arthur's opinion, with big antennas that threatened to poke his eyes out and a large pincer mouth that made him watch his back as Jack hopped around finding flowers. 

The roach flew off before anyone noticed that Arthur had sort of befriended it, and Arthur had taken the very long walk back to camp alone after alerting Jack of his departing. "You never really notice how far ants walk until you're ant sized," Arthur wheezed, legs tired after the long walk and the effort it had taken to climb onto the chair, and then hop onto the table where Hosea was reading his daily newspaper. 

"That seems fair," Hosea says, "are you hungry yet?" he asks, and Arthur finds that he is. He's starving, in fact. 

And that's how Arthur found himself almost drowning in a bowl. He had tipped and well into it, thankfully only slightly warm and not hot, the stew had been hard to swim through, with pieces of potatoes and sliced carrots bumping into him. Hosea had plucked him out with a snort, and Dutch was bent over laughing as Arthur wiped his face clean. "I hate being small," Arthur whines as Hosea sets a spoon full of stew in front of him, of which Arthur sipped carefully from. 

"I'd guess so," Hosea agrees with and understanding smile. 

The evening was nice, a bit cold but Arthur had sat down on Charles' shoulder beside the fire and warmed up. Charles didn't mind him, he even let Arthur try to braid his hair as a pastime. When the braid turned into more of a knot, Charles had only untangled it and let Arthur try again.

Javier had smiled at Arthur as he sat down beside them, guitar in hand, and played a nice tune for them all to listen to. Bill was scolded into holding his tongue after saying a bunch of mean stuff to Arthur, who hadn't let the drunkard spew his insults for free. Arthur had discovered that his punches had the same effect as he was in regular size, and Bill had taken a nice hard punch in the ankle that prompted him into shutting up. 

The sound of hoofbeats fade into the background as Sean rides into camp, hopping off with an armful of bags and clumsily setting it down on the table. "I've brought all the things we need!" he announced, Arthur tapping Charles' shoulder, so he'd walk them closer to the Irishman, "Just need a cauldron now!" 

And so, Arthur found himself watching as Pearson dug up their potion making cauldron (purchased after a very peculiar mishap with left over potion mixing with the daily stew). Sean was admittedly rusty in the antidote brewing department, but with Charles' helping hand and Hosea overseeing the entire process; soon the brew was left to simmer. "Two days," Sean said, "or at least, that's the least amount of time." he adds, face scrunching in confusion, "or was it two hours..." he murmurs to himself, and Arthur levels him a glare. Sean laughs, nervously.

"Sean!" Arthur grumbles, and Sean pets his head with a finger obnoxiously. 

"suanbhruith ar feadh dhá lá" Sean says, a cocky grin plastering on his face, "that means, 2 days, little English, we just gotta leave it for two days!"


End file.
